


His Special Little Horcrux

by Earth_Phoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Emotional, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Not Canon Compliant, Not Happy, Pain, Smart Voldemort, Suffering, Tomarry Halloween Exchange 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-03 04:44:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16319411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Earth_Phoenix/pseuds/Earth_Phoenix
Summary: Harry is captured by Voldemort during his rebirth. Voldemort will try anything to get to break him and strike the first fatal blow to the Light.





	His Special Little Horcrux

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedHorse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHorse/gifts).



Long pale, spider-like fingers tapped idly at the arms of the chair, as red eyes stared off into the distance. A question swirled around the Dark Lord’s mind, haunting his nights, taking time from his day.

The raucous laughter from his Death Eaters began to die off, bringing him back to reality and focusing his attention on the doors at the end of the room.

Voldemort brought a single finger to his lips as Harry walked into the room. The boy’s arms were bound behind his back, his feet encased in chains. His robes were dirty and torn. Dried blood covered his face. Despite all of this, Harry walked in with his head held high, his shoulders stiff. Defiant.

As Harry walked forwards toward his throne, flanked by the Lestrange brothers, his people hissed. Promises of death and more torture met Harry’s ears. He lifted his chin higher, a sign of obstination.  

Voldemort stood as Harry reached the bottom of the raised dais. His people fell silent, eyes filled with excitement. He descended down the rough stone steps and cupped Harry’s bruised and bloody face in his cold hands. He smiled slightly as Harry winced at the contact. No doubt the Horcrux in his scar was causing the child pain.

Harry’s body shook in fear. The last few weeks hadn’t been easy on the youth, but at least now the boy had the right amount of respect for his betters. A beat of silence passed. Beads of sweat began to form on Harry’s forehead, rolling down that cursed scar, splashing into pain-filled green eyes.

“Oh Harry,” Voldemort ran a thumb across the boy’s lips. “Why do you make me hurt you so?” The words were gentle, feigning kindness. Harry whimpered.

Voldemort removed his hands from Harry’s face and pulled out his wand. The Lestranges let go of Harry and the boy fell heavily onto his knees, crying out in pain.

“I want his left arm.” Shrieks of amusement broke out as Roldolphus cut the rope around Harry’s place, shaking arm and held it out for his lord.

Harry’s scream of anguish as the mark was seared into his arm made Voldemort’s year.

 

 *~*

 

Harry awoke back in the safety of his cell. His left arm burned and he could feel prickles of shame running through him. He should have fought harder. Should have escaped by now. He had been such a fool, allowing himself to be captured like this. Used like this.

He would die here. Harry knew that now. Voldemort was never going to let him go, and as far as Harry knew, nobody from the Order even knew he was missing. He had just gone for an evening walk to get away from the Dursleys’ for a while when he was hit by a stunning spell and woke up here, to the Crucio being used on him. It was a sign of the days to come. Voldemort would appear, asking questions about the Order, Dumbledore. Of the Prophecy. Harry never answered. Not when Voldemort ripped into his mind. Not even when he was humiliated in front of Death Eaters. Beaten to the point of death.

Harry groped blindly for the thin blanket that he knew was nearby.  Voldemort had branded him. Had branded him with the Dark Mark. He could never return now. If the Order didn’t shun him, he would hide from them. He had no idea how he would ever show his face to them again. They trusted him and now here he was, weak. They should be ashamed of him. His arm was a disgrace. His soul now a disgrace. Perhaps it was time to stop fighting. To join Voldemort. If he could never go back, what was the point in fighting Voldemort? He had been marked already.

Tired hands finding the blanket, he pulled it over himself. He shivered with cold, even with the flimsy blanket covering him.

Light steps echoed off the grimy stone walls, and Harry sat up, suddenly alert. Clutching the blanket to his chest, he waited to see which Death Eater had come to take his brief respite away.

“Harry,” Hearing his name on those dreadful lips, Harry scooted deeper into the cell, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. “Come now, dear Harry, there’s no need for that.”

Pain erupted in his head and arm, worse than being under the crucio. His head was sure to explode. His scar was splitting his head apart. His new brand _burned._ Deep from within his arm, the mark burned, wanting him to answer the call. Angry. Impatient.

“Do you feel that Harry?” The boy screamed louder, his back arching unpleasantly as the pain increased. His vision blurred. “That is my soul inside you, trying to get back to me.”

Harry fought back tears. He would not cry. They had beaten him, tortured and humiliated him and he had not cried. He would not give them the satisfaction.

“I wonder if you know what you are,” Voldemort wondered aloud, he walked in careful, measured steps around him. Harry gritted his teeth as he fought not pass out. “I wonder if Dumbledore ever told you.”

Voldemort cancelled the spell and knelt down next to the shuddering and gasping boy. “Harry, Harry, Harry, my special little Horcrux.”

 

*~*

 

The mark looked ugly on his arm, Harry thought. It was dark against his pale skin. A ghastly snake and skull burned onto him - a constant and unwelcome reminder of the pain the Dark Lord caused.  

As the months passed, Harry became used the burning sensation that felt like his skin was trying to peel itself away from the mark. Another meeting, more pointless deaths and the taunting. Voldemort would visit to give updates on the war from time to time.

“Hogwarts fell to us, did you know?” Voldemort purred one evening, watching with cold eyes as Harry curled up on the cold stone floor in the fetal position.

“My people run the school, the Ministry. It’s only a matter of time before the world bows before me.”

“The Wizarding World will never bow to you. The light will always fight back,” Harry said quietly.

“Oh I do hope so, Harry, it’s rather fun crushing the hope out of the Light’s eyes every time a rebellion fails.”

 

*~*

 

“Make it stop, please.” Harry knelt before Voldemort.  His lips chapped and bleeding, fresh cuts littering his back. He may be Voldemort’s ‘horcrux’ but that didn’t stop Voldemort from allowing his Death Eaters to beat him senseless.

All around him the Death Eater’s laughed. The throne room amplifying their voices, sending shivers down Harry’s spine.

“You know what I want Harry.” More laughter. Voldemort gave his Death Eaters an indulgent smile. “Now, now, let’s hear him speak.”

Harry’s throat felt tight. He opened his mouth but found no words.  Traitor. That is what he was. He was turning his back on everything he knew.  

“I -,” The words died on his lips. Tried green eyes looked around the room. Death Eaters jeered and leered at him in equal measure.

Harry swallowed, forcing the words up past the lump in his throat. “I - love you.”

Voldemort threw his head back and laughed, “Good boy.”

Voldemort stood, walking slowly to the where the boy knelt, drawing out the moment for as long as he could. He reached a long pale finger under Harry’s chin forcing the so-called saviour to look at him. He smiled, a cruel mocking smile.

“It’s time Harry,” He stepped back pulling his wand from his robe pocket. “Bring it to me.”

The Death Eaters hushed as a smug and smiling Bellatrix appeared, her long black hair bouncing as she walked. This was her redeeming moment.

She placed a blood red cushion at the Dark Lord’s feet, instinctively the other Death Eater’s closed in tighter.

A twin pair of silver daggers glinted in the on the cushion. Harry tried not to look at them, so this was how he was going to die. How muggle. He wanted to laugh. The great Lord Voldemort, killing him was _daggers_.

“Oh no, Harry. These aren’t for killing you with,” The Death Eaters laughed harder. Harry’s mouth was drier than the Sahara Desert. Of course, Voldemort could read minds, of course.

“I want my Horcrux back.” Harry blinked in confusion. He had heard that word before but had no idea what on earth it meant.

Harry shook as Voldemort pointed his wand at him, a sadistic smile stretched over the snake-like mouth. The spell hit him like with the force of a runaway steam train. He screamed.

Something dark and twisted was crawling at the inside of his body, crawling towards his head. His scar. A monster. A monster dwelt inside him and it wanted out.

Blood trickled down Harry’s head. Trickling into the corner of his mouth, running into his open mouth. The blood collected in his throat, he was going to choke to death on his own blood. The monster was still crawling out his scar, ripping his head apart.

It was over as suddenly as it started. Harry found himself lying on the ground. He never remembered lying down. Just the endless screaming. He rolled onto his side and heaved. Thick red blood tarnished the cold grey ground. It looked startling and garish. Out of place. He heaved again.  Tears mixed the blood. It looked so _wet_.

 _I should clean that_ , Harry thought, his years as the Dursley’s coming back to haunt him.

“Harry,” A voice crooned in his ear and Harry flinched. “You did so well Harry.”

Cold hands lifted him, with a start, Harry realised he was being cradled. Held like a lover in the Dark Lords arms.

“Thank you for being such a good host for my Horcrux,” Voldemort pressed a gentle kiss to Harry’s bloody forehead. “Rest now.”

Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand to Harry’s throat. “Goodnight.” A whispered curse. Harry’s limp body feel drop his arms.  The body of the would-be saviour laid face down in its own blood.

Voldemort flicked his wand, summoning one of the daggers to him. He rolled the body onto its back. Tonight he would carve out the heart and keep it as the ultimate trophy. In the morning he would send the body back to Dumbledore.

 

*~*

 

Fang barked happily as he loped through the grass, his nose twitching at every interesting smell. A new smell caught his interest. He barked, wanting Hagrid to hurry up so he could investigate. His human chuckled, a rare thing these days.

“Go on Fang,” Hagrid waved a huge hand. Fang wagged his tail and put his nose to the ground.

It didn’t take him long to find where the smell was coming from. Fang sat and cocked his head, he knew this face. Lying in the side of a ditch on the road towards Hogsmeade, was the body of the green-eyed boy Hagrid was so fond of. The green-eyed boy loved to pat him. He stood and moved closer. The boy didn’t blink. He nudged the boy’s hand. Licked it. He sat back on his hunches and howled.


End file.
